Your Best is Enough
by I've Been a Labrat
Summary: A long while after Charles returns from the hospital, he and Erik have some downtime to bicker and be philosophical.


_I think this is less than good, but a friend encouraged me to post it, so here you are._

* * *

"You're a pansy," Erik informed him in a lighthearted tone, a smile on his face even as his eyes conveyed the guilt he still felt every moment, waking and not.

Charles waved him off. "Oh, hush. You'd be this way too if you had to sit on your arse after someone shot it."

The older man snorted, helping him inch down to sit on the couch, which had kindly been softened all too eagerly by Sean, upon being called downstairs to rip open the cushions and remove a good bit of stuffing. It was necessity, Charles insisted, because he didn't want to carry around a pillow to sit on all the time. Raven had rolled her eyes and told him to stop being a whiny baby. Although she used neither term, and was more crude about it.

Wincing a little, Charles shifted until he was suitably comfortable, then groaned a little. "Why didn't I turn on the television before I sat down?"

"Because you're surprisingly incompetent, for someone so intelligent?" Erik suggested, receiving a pillow in the face for his snark.

"Oh, I have an idea." Charles smiled, a gleam of mischief in his eyes. "Use your _entrancing_ gift to turn on the television. It will be good practice."

Reluctantly, he held out a hand and twitched his fingers, peering closely to ensure he didn't get too crazy and rip the dials off. The strange box flickered on, though they were greeted by static. He rolled his eyes and walked forward, smacking his palm on the top of the casing a couple times before it cleared up. Erik sat down on the couch next to Charles, discreetly digging out a bag from behind a pillow.

The telepath's head snapped to the left, frowning in confusion. "Is that… candy corn?"

"No, it's a bag of scabs," Erik answered, popping a few pieces of multicolored triangle candies into his mouth.

"I can't believe you like those nasty things."

"I can't believe you like the vile tea, so we're even."

Charles shot him a glare, but turned his attention back to the television. "It's funny."

"What is?"

Charles gestured with his hands, trying to find the right words. "We're… afraid of the future. We know the consequences of our actions could be dire, and that mutants could be… subjugated. And yet," Charles pointed at the television screen, which displayed a cartoon, "the average American doesn't care. They enjoy their blissful ignorance. There's no more news about the possibility of a threat in the future, now the missile crisis has ended. They predict the future to be all smiles and hovering cars."

He sat back, shaking his head and thinking hard. "I wonder how they can ignore the possibility everything could end due to the Soviets, Americans, or… even us."

Erik cast him a look. He, of course, would never admit to being concerned about the telepath. And yet… "What happened to your optimism?"

Shrugging, he sighed. "It's disappeared."

"Because you were wrong?"

Charles frowned, then nodded reluctantly. "I suppose so, yes."

"Hardly a legitimate reason to lose your faith." Erik turned to face him, their eyes meeting. "I didn't want to be right." Pausing, he considered the weight of his thoughts. "I wanted you to be right."

"But… after all you said about us being superior-"

He'd been taught not to interrupt, but Charles needed to come to his senses. "That doesn't mean I desired mankind attempting to commit genocide. I'd rather not live through two."

The younger man put a hand to his mouth, mulling over Erik's words. They were unexpected, to be sure. He wasn't the kind of man to lay his soul bare for just anyone, and Charles knew he alone had that privilege, now Erik had no one else in this world. To confide in his deepest, most hidden feelings, must take a great deal of courage for the man, private as he was. The telepath felt honored, and knew he had to take Erik's words with the utmost sincerity.

"I will…" Swallowing, Charles rubbed his temple. "I will do my best to… regain my faith."

"Your best is enough."


End file.
